This is where we needed to be.
After all this time.
Finally.
What drew my attention next, however, was the crude altar that they congregated around, one that looked oddly familiar, but not because I was Catholic. It looked nothing like a church altar, as it had three legs arrayed like a tripod, and was roughly carved from a large stone in the shape of half an egg with its surface carved flat but its bottom half left round.
I turned to find Vincent staring at the altar intently.
“What?” I asked.
“I… believe I’ve seen that altar before,” he said hesitantly. “I believe… I believe it is a duplicate of the one we found in Rome.”
I looked at him in confusion. “When did we find an altar in Rome?”
He finally shifted his attention away from the altar as he answered. “The one we found beneath the Temple of Lupercal. The one in the cave when we first arrived in Ancient Rome.”
I didn’t remember, but I tightened my lips and nodded at the information. “Then it looks like we’re on the right track.”
Abruptly, one of the Druids held up a hand, signaling for us to stop. We did, but when the Druid lowered his hand a moment later, I took a challenging step forward. No further indication that we should stay back emanated from the gathered Druids, so I turned around to face those behind me.
“Stay here,” I ordered, but then met Boudicca’s eye. “You come with me.”
She nodded and fell into step behind me as the two of us closed the distance. Our destination was only a few dozen meters away, but it seemed to go on forever, giving me time to study the gathered Druids. Each of them were old, ancient really, with sun dried faces and white, stringy hair, but they also carried themselves confidently, and there was determination in their eyes. None of them batted an eyelash at me or seemed surprised at the fact that I wore clothing and carried weaponry none of them had ever seen before…
That is, unless they had seen me before.
There were seven of them arrayed in a semi-circle around the altar, but it was clear that the man in the center was the guy in charge. He was an elderly chap with a long gray beard and a nasty scar that vertically bisected his left eye. He was also taller than the rest, and was the only one to take a step forward as I stepped up to the altar.
He eyed me evenly, his face blank, and when he spoke, his words came out in a gravelly, old voice that reminded me of an old Classics professor I’d had a lifetime ago. In fact, as I peered closer, I saw that he even resembled my old Classics professor as well. This man’s beard was longer and thinner, but the set of his eyes, size of his nose, and shape of his mouth were all quite similar.
I’d spent a lot of time with that particular professor while at Dartmouth, wasting much of his time during office hours discussing ancient history and being ridiculed by him for my inability to pick up Greek as easily as I had Latin. He’d been a mentor to me, at least until I’d dropped Greek after only one semester my junior year. It had been too much of a time consumer, as I’d found myself literally having to translate lines of Greek every Saturday night in between beer pong throws. Our relationship had soured after that, and while he’d always been my closest mentor, he no longer looked at me as one of his protégés, as he most certainly had when I’d been an underclassman.
And like most first time students of my old Classics professor, I hadn’t a clue as to what the man had just said.
I turned to Boudicca. “Did you understand him?”
She nodded. “He indicated that what you seek is not here.”
I looked back at the old man, but then did a double take, and looked back at Boudicca. “Wait, did he say what I seek or who?”
“It is not entirely clear,” she answered. “This is not a language I have heard in many years.”
I nodded in understanding and gestured toward my old Classics professor whom I knew couldn’t possibly be my old Classics professor. “Can you communicate with him?”
“I believe so, yes,” she answered confidently.
“Good,” I said. “Just translate everything as we go so that I don’t have to ask for translations all the time, okay?”
“As you say, Hunter.”
I nodded and turned back to the old, craggy, scarred man, searching my mind for the right words to receive the information I needed as quickly as possible. As I searched and formulated questions, only one thing came to mind, and I realized that I hadn’t thought about the orb in months, and for the first time in as long as I could remember, wondered where Helena had hid it.
“Do you know of the orb?” I asked.
Boudicca translated and the man nodded in affirmation.
“Were you expecting us?”
Another nod.
So far so good. Time to muck things up then.
“If what I seek isn’t here, why did I come here at all? Why did all the clues lead here?”
“If you had known where to go,” the man said, “then you would have not needed to come here.”
So this conversation was going to be like that then… great.
“Helpful…” I muttered, but held the man’s stare. “Then where do I need to go?”
“That is for you to learn, and we to never know.”
I glanced at the sky and mumbled in English, “God, help me; I’m going to kill this guy.”
“Hunter?” Boudicca asked.
“Nothing,” I snapped, dropping my head again. “Are you a Druid?”
Another nod.
“Was coming here a mistake?”
This time the response was a negative.
I was just about to ask another question when behind me, I heard Santino yell out, “Borrrr-ing. Enough with the twenty questions already, Hunter! Get us outta here!”
I threw a hand over my shoulder to shut him up, my eyes never parting from the elder Druid.
“Tell me what I have to do,” I said.
I braced myself, waiting for what I knew would be a series of tasks, trials, and tests that would take us to the ends of the Earth to recover lost artifacts, uncover hidden clues, and slay any number of beasts before completing our quest. So far, our so-called adventure had been rather dull, but I knew it was only a matter of time before it kicked into high gear. It would be an adventure straight from mythology, like the ones Odysseus or Jason had experienced. We were in the land of Druids and fairies, after all!
It was only a matter of time…
The old man pointed the way we’d came and spoke softly. “Leave the island and follow the coast north. There you will find what you seek.”
I stared at him dumbly. “That’s it? Really? Just get the fuck out of here and keep going north? Just do what we were already doing? Except that we had to take a pit stop here for you to simply tell me to go north?? Go to this mystical and magical island that has two of my best and brightest guys spooked out of their minds just for you to stand there and tell me to go fucking north? How about some specifics or is north all I need? North??”
Boudicca had stopped translating long before I’d finished my rant but I hardly cared. I was fuming, enraged, and before I knew it, I had my hand on my pistol before I even knew my arm had moved at all. It was already out of my holster when a voice stopped me mid motion.
“Don’t, Jacob!”
It was Helena’s, and my pistol seemed to snap back into place on its own. As my weapon was returned to its sheath, my boiling blood reduced to a simmer and I forced myself to growl out my next inquiries more slowly.
“So go north then?”
Nod.
“How will I know where to go? What to find?”
“In time, you will know.”
“Yeah, thanks, Yoda,” I mumbled.
Boudicca didn’t bother asking for clarification this time.
“Fine then,” I said with a weary sigh, glancing to my left and seeing the great expanse of Holyhead Island and Anglesey before it. It was quite the view, but I didn’t let myself take any ple
asure from it as I turned back to the Druid. “Can we stay here for the night at least?”
“You are most welcome here, Jacob Hunter,” the man said.
I didn’t even bother asking how he knew my name.
“Great,” I said, already leaving.
***
Later that evening, with the legionnaires bunked down in their bare bones Roman camp near the base of Holyhead Mountain and the rest of my team doing whatever it was they did these days, I decided to take a stroll around the island. The sun had come out a few hours ago, so a walk seemed like a great idea. It was a cold but beautiful evening as the sun was just beginning to make its daily descent into the sea, so I’d traveled south, but about an hour into my walk, I found Vincent sitting atop a cliff that rested so high above the waterline that a fall into the water would have killed him instantly. Staring death in the face quite literally, I walked over and plopped myself down beside him to let my legs dangle over the ledge, deciding that maybe the two of us could come to terms and go back to the way things used to be. I leaned forward to catch his attention as he sat beside me but he didn’t flinch, his mind clearly occupied. His amputated arm hung uselessly beside him, his eyes fixed on the southern horizon intently.
I followed his gaze and squinted, seeing nothing off in the distance besides the coast of Mona off to my left, along with a bit of western Wales past that, creating an enormous bay of water with a tiny speck of an island at the very edge of the visible land.
I placed my hands on the ground beside me and leaned forward, stretching the muscles in my arms and shoulders.
“Not exactly what I was expecting,” I said, hoping to make small talk.
“Nor I,” Vincent answered.
“I just don’t get it, Vincent,” I said with a shake of my head. “This story makes less and less sense the deeper we get into it, and the mystery isn’t developing, just growing more confusing. If the Druid we seek isn’t here, where is he? North? Big help that is. And they know about the orb but won’t tell me anything about it? Some adventure this turned out to be…”
Vincent’s eyes hardly twitched. “Leading Roman legionnaires into unexplored country isn’t adventurous enough for you?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, I guess, but it hasn’t been very exciting. How am I going to script this into a movie when we get home if nothing happens during the middle of it?”
Still his eyes remained fixed, but now he closed them and kept them closed.
“You really have no idea where we are, do you, Jacob?”
“Anglesey?”
“Yes, but don’t you know anything about this island?”
“The history classes I took about Britain started around the Reformation,” I pointed out.
“No mythology? No history from the Dark Ages?”
“Mostly stuck to my Romans, Vincent. My schooling was cut short, remember?”
“I remember,” he said, “I simply find it implausible that we would find ourselves in a place such as this, and you know nothing about it.”
Annoyance was beginning to set it. “Enlighten me then, Vincent. I could use direction here.”
“That’s another question my mind has been struggling with, Hunter. I’m not so sure the best course of action here is to enlighten you about anything.”
“Why’s that?” I said, the anger growing.
“I have my reasons,” he whispered.
“What reasons could you possibly have?” I demanded. “I need information here. Direction! I…”
“Do you see that island on the horizon?” Vincent asked, interrupting me, his finger stretched out before him pointing south.
I squinted. “Yeah, barely.”
“It’s known as Bardsey Island back home. Have you heard of it?”
“You know I haven’t.”
Finally, he turned his head in my direction but didn’t look at me. “It’s simply that I cannot believe that it’s there… and that we’re here as well.”
“Why, Vincent? Just tell me.”
“I can’t,” he said, and with that, he stood to leave me alone on the edge of the cliff.
I watched him go for half a minute before glancing out again at this mysterious Bardsey Island that sat just barely in my line of sight. Had the evening weather not cleared up as nicely as it had, it probably wouldn’t even have been visible on the horizon. This thought mixed with Vincent’s odd proclamation and apprehension about the island sent a chill down my spine.
If only I had access to the internet I could just look it up.
But then I guess that would ruin the surprise.
Where was the fun in that?
***
The next morning I awoke to the sounds of screams and the roars of pandemonium, unsure where I was.
Since command level officers entitled to a praetorium rarely accommodated so small a scouting force, the Romans under my command hadn’t constructed one for me, but I was okay with that. It hadn’t been that long ago when I’d pitched my own tent every single evening, the same one I’d used since going on the run with Helena and Santino all those years ago.
The only difference now was that Helena stayed with Artie instead.
And it was Artie who awoke me, as neither the screams nor sounds of panic had roused me from my slumber. She unzipped my tent roughly, the first sign of disturbance, and jumped on me like she used to do as kids at six in the morning on Christmas day, a tradition she’d continued well into my college years.
“Jacob!” She cried.
“What?” I asked still half asleep. “Is it Christmas yet?”
Actually, Christmas had been just a week ago. I’d barely noticed.
“It’s the legionnaires!! They’re burning the village!”
“What?” I asked, leaning up on an elbow so that I could more easily rub sleep from my eyes.
She grabbed my bare shoulders and shook me. “The legionnaires are murdering the villagers, Jacob! They’re burning the village down with them in it!”
I sighed and rose to my feet, strapping on my web belt and holster and slipping into my jacket.
“Let’s go take a look then,” I said, pushing my way past her and her gaping mouth.
I stopped just outside my tent and looked at the chaos before me.
The small village was completely ablaze, turning the mountain behind it into a flickering wall of shapes and colors, a beautiful image against the pre-dawn light. I placed my hands on my hips and noted the rampaging legionnaires that put down men and women alike as they attempted to flee the blaze.
I waited for the scene before me to change like it always seemed to do these days, but when I closed my eyes and then reopened them, it remained.
Artie emerged from the tent, hot on my heels. “Stop them, Jacob!”
I didn’t look at her. “What do you want me to do, Artie?”
She looked at me, a mixture of anger and terror splashed against her face. “Tell them to stop!”
“I can’t,” I said, “Their adrenaline is surging. They’d kill me just as quickly as these villagers if I tried to stop them. You don’t see Santino or Archer interfering, do you?”
I pointed to the two men who stood near each other off to the left, staring at the chaos before them as well. They weren’t nearly as worked up over it as Artie, but the horror on even their regular tough guy faces was clearly evident. Around me, former friends were stumbling out of their tents, also awakened by the screams. Their expressions were mixed, some simply staring in confusion while others wore looks of abject horror.
I turned away from them and returned my attention to the show and shifted in place, narrowing my eyes in confusion as I felt an unexpected object that seemed to have found itself in my pants. Glancing down, I reached a hand toward a cargo pocket and discovered that the object seemed large, hard, and round. Not remembering putting anything there the night before, I cautiously reached in and retrieved the object in question.
I smiled as my hand came into contact with it,
knowing what it was well before I saw it in the light given off from the blaze. I pulled it out slowly and brought it to eye level, and then took a bite out of the apple and chewed.
I’d always loved apples, especially the green ones.
Very sweet and…
“Jacob!”
I glanced back at Artie, my mouth full of half chewed apple. “What?”
Her eyes were a mix of emotion. “Do something!”
I rolled my eyes, making an overt display of annoyance, and made my way toward the town and the legionnaires that surrounded it. My progress was slow and lacking in energy for the task ahead, each stride mimicking how unenthusiastic I felt. I’d just taken another bite from my apple when a dark figure stepped in front of me, cutting me off just steps away from Minicius. All I could make out in the early dawn light were a pair of tiny green orbs looking up at me.
“Tell me you had nothing to do with this, Jacob.”
I chose to ignore the fact that those were the first words she’d decided to speak to me in days, and instead decided to play nice and answer the question.
“Does it look like I had anything to do with this?”
She looked at me intensely, studiously, and waited patiently for me to react to her scrutiny but I didn’t flinch. In turn, I felt patience surge within me and I knew I could stand there under her gaze for days if I had to, but luckily, I didn’t. With one last glance at me, she walked away, and I found myself pleasantly alone again. With another bite from my apple, I watched her go for the briefest of seconds before continuing my search for Minicius.
I found him a minute later, his spear deep in the chest of an elderly woman who had taken a chance at fleeing. Her arms were stretched out in Minicius’ direction, her fingers extended like the claws of a wild animal, her face a mixture of shock and pain. I half expected lightning bolts to fling themselves at him from her fingertips, but when the centurion withdrew his spear and looked up, he simply nodded as the woman died. I spit out a seed and watched it land at her feet, thinking little of her or the village I’d ordered burned to the ground before turning in for the night.
A Hunter and His Legion (The Praetorian Series Book 3) Page 28
